


On the Twelfth Night of Christmas

by Mercia12591



Series: Tales from the Ancestral Tudor Court [5]
Category: The Spanish Princess (TV), The Tudors (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:13:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28152171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercia12591/pseuds/Mercia12591
Summary: Kathryn of Aragon finds herself an honored guest at the Ancestral Court of Henry VIII.
Relationships: Catherine of Aragon/Henry VIII of England
Series: Tales from the Ancestral Tudor Court [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007481
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	On the Twelfth Night of Christmas

**White Hall Palace, the Ancestral Realms – Twelfth Night, 1800**

**T** **he** Yule festivities were drawing to their zenith with the approach of Twelfth Night and all of Henry’s Court was a hive of activity preparing for the night which was the highlight of the Tudor’s ritual year. Mary’s excitement knew no bounds. On the morning of the twelfth day of Christmas mother and daughter found themselves in White Hall Palace’s royal chapel, praying.

Henry watched his daughter and Kathryn kneeling side by side at the altar. The sight warmed the king to the core of his being, and he found himself joining them. Neither Kathryn nor Mary raised any objection to his presence.

When the prayers were done, Henry invited his daughter and Kathryn for a walk in the snow-covered gardens. Both accepted the invitation and a short time later the royal family took a leisurely stroll around the beautiful and immaculately kept palace gardens.

“My sisters tell me you have started refurbishing your castles,” Henry said conversationally as they kept an eye on their daughter.

“I have,” Kathryn replied. “I must say I’m enjoying it and your mother and sisters have been a great help. Even Lady Margret Buafort has deigned to lend a hand.”

“She has been kind to you, my lady grandmother?” Henry asked and it was clear that the idea pleased him.

“Margret Beaufort have been most gracious,” Kathryn replied, turning her attention to Mary. Henry’s presence still unsettled Kathryn and she did not like what that implied. It had been over 200 years. He did not love her and anything she once felt for him should be dead and buried by now. She had to move on, it was past time.

Henry felt the wall go up between them and it took an iron will not to follow as she went after their daughter. Kathryn needed space and time, likely plenty of it too. It would do no good to try and rush things. If he wanted his queen back fully and completely, and he did, then he would have to keep his eye on the long game and practice patience.

*** 

In eternities to come that first Twelfth night after Kathryn of Aragon’s return to the Ancestral Realm would be remembered as a kind of new dawn, a glittering extravaganza in honor of the Queen among queens a woman who had endured so much and lost it all, only to rise once more to the place of prominence.

That Kathryn of Aragon had indeed regained a place of prominence was made crystal clear to Henry’s Court by the fact that four of Henry’s later queens acted as ladies-in-waiting to the Queen. All four retained the title of queen, but the King and his family’s actions throughout the night made it clear that Kathryn of Aragon was the Queen among queens.

The display galled Anne Boleyn, she had finally received the much-coveted invitation to Court for the Twelfth night celebrations, but she soon realized she’d only been issued the invitation so that Henry could make a point.

Though all Henry’s other wives retained their titles, Anne was referred to as ‘Mistress Boleyn’ or ‘the Princess Elizabeth’s mother.’ Because King Henry had married Anne while he was still legally married to Kathryn of Aragon, the High Council had long ago declared that Anne was not here, nor ever on earth, a queen.

Now she watched as her rival returned and had honor upon honor heaped on her. Even the evening’s play, a glittering affair, cast the newly returned Queen as foremost in the heaven’s and second only in standing to the Blessed Virgin Herself.

“I must be in hell,” Anne murmured to herself as she gulped down her wine from a silver goblet.

“Perhaps, Mistress Anne,” Thomas Moore murmured, his tone one of ill-concealed glee. “Perhaps we are all in hell, or maybe you are simply getting a taste of what the Queen herself felt watching you all those years ago…If I recall you did not feel even an ounce of pity for the havoc you were wrecking on court and country.” 

“Oh, do shut up!” Anne hissed drawing an amused chuckle from the lawyer.

“I do believe Harry wrote this play himself,” Thomas continued. “I must say I am gratified to see him happy at last and reunited with his legitimate Queen and wife. Do enjoy the rest of the evening, Mistress Boleyn.”

***

But if Anne Boleyn, even in the grip of her continued lust for power, could discern the way the wind was blowing, Kathryn of Aragon could not. Centuries in purgatory could not help but have an impact and the effect it had was that Kathryn could not see what was plain for everyone else. In Kathryn’s mind, all she saw was Henry pining for his true love Anne Boleyn.

In her short time back at Court Kathryn had learned that Anne had been stripped of her title as queen. The fact that Henry hadn’t taken a queen in over 300years only convinced Kathryn that he was waiting for the love of his life, Anne Boleyn.

Kathryn unobtrusively watched her former rival all night and the other woman’s frustration and anger was clear to see. As for Henry, he showed no outward sign of discomfort, in fact he seemed happier than Kathryn could ever remember seeing him. But Henry had always been a particularly skilled actor and Kathryn knew that the act he’d been putting on over these twelve days of Christmas had been for the benefit of their daughter Mary.

While Kathryn was grateful for Henry’s well-intentioned actions Kathryn was saddened to realize that she was once again standing in true love’s way, albeit this time she was doing so unintendedly.

Hours later as the king’s own glittering carriage took Kathryn and her daughter to their new home at Greenwich Palace, she was still pondering how she could be of service to Henry and his true love. The High Council’s decisions were usually set in stone, but Kathryn was never one to simply accept defeat and she wasn’t about to do so now, not with Henry’s eternal happiness at stake.

She looked down at her daughter fast asleep in her lap. Her sweet Mary looked so peaceful in sleep and as Kathryn stroked the child’s dark auburn locks, she pondered her own past actions. Did history think her vain and arrogant for refusing to give up the title of ‘queen’ all those centuries ago? Did they blame her for the part she played in rending God’s Church asunder by her refusal to go away quietly as Henry had wanted her to? God knows she often blamed herself.

But in this moment with her daughter asleep in her lap, Kathryn remembered that she fought for her daughter, for Mary, and her chance to rule. She didn’t want her daughter to be branded a bastard and so Kathryn fought and fought until the bitter end…until her very last breath.

In the end she had her victory, she supposed. The Catholic Church never acknowledged her divorce from Henry and Mary did become queen, albeit for a short time. Yes, she had won in a way, so why did the thought leave such a bitter taste in her mouth?

Tonight, she felt as if she was standing before a crossroads once again, before a choice. She could take her place as a queen again, Henry’s queen, and it was tempting, too tempting by far. He’d take her back, his actions these last few days proved as much. She’d only have to say the word and she would have her Camelot once more.

But she couldn’t do it. Not now. She knew better now. All those centuries ago Kathryn was a young girl, naïve enough to believe that Henry married her out of love. She was too young then to realize that there were shades of love, one might deeply respect another and even have a genuine fondness for them, without those feelings ever becoming passionate love. Henry was so young when they married. He’d been barely beyond boyhood. She had genuinely loved him and perhaps in her eagerness to be his wife and be lifted from humiliating poverty, she convinced herself that a teenage boy’s romantic notions of courtly love were the real thing.

And Henry, oh her chivalrous, gallant, handsome prince, he was so good at the play that he made it easy to believe. Perhaps for a time he even believed it himself because he knew no better.

Then came Anne Boleyn, exotic, daring, brazen, she took the court by storm and captivated the king. Kathryn had never seen Henry so entranced. It took years for her to acknowledge that Henry was in love, passionately head-over-heels…with another woman…

That knowledge when it eventually sank in almost broke her. But the final, devastating realization came just days after her death as she watched Anne and Henry celebrate her passing with feasting and pageantry. There could be no doubt then, whatever Henry had once felt for her, it wasn’t love, it couldn’t have been... 

The carriage came to a sudden halt, jolting Kathryn from her thoughts and Mary from her slumber. “What is it Lady Mother?” The little girl asked sleepily and the innocence on the child’s cherubic features was enough to chase the gloomy memories from Kathryn’s mind and she smiled sweetly at her reason for existing.

“I’m sure it is nothing, my sweet angel,” she said and gave a contented smile as the little girl snuggled close to her.

“Your Majesty,” came the coachman’s voice a moment later. “There is something blocking the road…”

“I am the Dowager Princess of Wales, sir,” Kathryn corrected gently as she placed Mary on the plush velvet-covered bench. “Stay here,” she said to her daughter, “Madre will be right back.” Mary nodded as she watched her mother open the coach door and exit the carriage.

Kathryn hurried over to the coachman who stood about a meter away from the carriage, hunched over as if to inspect something. “What is it?” She asked as she approached. “Can you make it out?”

“I can gracious lady,” the coachman replied in a somber tone as he crossed himself. “We’ve stumbled across some poor soul transitioning to the ghostly realms…”

Kathryn stood beside the coachman and they watched the pulsating glowing form on the ground. Only a few nights ago this was her. At the thought, a wave of compassion washed over Kathryn and she knelt beside the figure in the dirt heedless of her rich attire.

“Poor dear soul,” she whispered in a gentle, kind tone, “is there no one to attend you at the last?” She took off her own rich velvet cloak, wrapping it around what she now discerns as being a male figure. The rabidly fading figure turned enough for Kathryn to recognize his features and she drew back in shock.

“Wolsey!”

“Your Majesty,” The figure on the ground managed, his voice so faint she had to strain to hear him.

She could’ve left him there, let nature take its course. That was indeed her first instinct, but practicality won out. The man could prove useful in her attempts to dissolve the bonds which remained between her and Henry. So it was that she called to her daughter to bring some of the spare vials of energy from the carriage.

It took ten vials of fairly potent energy to revive Wolsey to such an extent that he was able to travel. “Have you anywhere to stay?” Kathryn asked a short time later of her nemesis where he sat in the carriage opposite her and Mary.

“No, your Grace,” Wolsey replied humbly as he marveled at Kathryn’s calm tone, her manner was almost kind and certainly much kinder than he deserved, given their history.

“You are welcome to stay at Greenwich Palace while you recover your strength,” Kathryn offered with an air of nonchalance. 

“Why are you helping me, your Majesty?”

“I go by Dowager Princess of Wales now, Wolsey so you can drop the ‘your Majesty’.” She said meeting his gaze head-on. “As for the reason I’m helping you now, it is not completely altruistic. You see I need your help and expertise in a matter of great import.” Kathryn’s lips quirked in the beginnings of an ironic smile. “I suppose you could say it is a very Great Matter…”


End file.
